


Lady Prisoners

by Gamma_Orionis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Captivity, Dark, F/F, Gift Fic, Wordcount: 1000-2000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-10 08:37:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/784040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gamma_Orionis/pseuds/Gamma_Orionis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellatrix is given the tasks of looking after female prisoners of the Death Eaters, on the basis that she can resist being tempted by them. But it's not exactly easy to resist someone with Veela blood... Written for Lady Eleanor Boleyn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lady Prisoners

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a terribly belated birthday present to the wonderful and lovely Lady Eleanor Boleyn, who requested non-smutty Bellatrix/Fleur.

Fleur tried to keep herself composed at all times, but it was dreadfully difficult to do so as a prisoner.

She didn't know what the Death Eaters wanted from her – she only knew that one minute, she had been hurrying along Diagon Alley, clutching her shopping basket and praying that she would be able to get home before anyone took particular notice of her, and the next thing she knew, she was in an unfamiliar room, bound by ropes and spells to keep her still, and the only other person in the room was Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Where am I?" was the first question to come to Fleur's lips, but even before the words were out, she knew better than to expect an answer.

She was right not to expect one. Bellatrix's lip curled with distaste and she stood up from the chair in which she had been sitting and observing Fleur.

"You're the Order's little Veela girl, aren't you?" she cooed, ignoring Fleur's question. "I've heard about you – I believe we interrupted your wedding this past summer, didn't we, dearest?"

Fleur winced at the memory and didn't answer. If Bellatrix didn't answer her questions, why should she answer hers?

Bellatrix circled Fleur from where she was splayed on the ground. Her wrists were tied and pulled up above her head and her ankles bound to stakes that had been driven into the floor. Her legs were slightly spread and Fleur could barely move.

"You're a pretty girl, you know," Bellatrix murmured. "I'm sure you've heard that… but you remind me so of my little sister."

"Do I?" Fleur would have spat if her mouth wasn't so dry. Instead she managed only to give Bellatrix what she hoped was a haughty and disparaging glare.

"Oh, you do… especially when you sneer like that. Do it again."

Fleur relaxed her mouth immediately, sticking out her lower lip in a defiant pout instead.

Bellatrix giggled quietly, then dropped into a crouch beside Fleur.

"You know," she breathed, "they give me the woman prisoners to look after… whenever the Dark Lord captures a woman, I'm the one who's assigned to look after her – I suppose he thinks that if he left you with a man…"

Fleur shuddered and Bellatrix smirked. "You understand. But I don't see how the Dark Lord could leave me with a girl as pretty as you…" Her hand drifted and hovered just above the curve of Fleur's breast, "and not expect  _something_  to happen."

"Don't touch me!" Fleur cried, but it was too late. Bellatrix was already on top of Fleur, her hands pressed against her arms, holding her down on the ground as if Fleur could have gotten away or moved anyway.

"So beautiful…" she murmured. "The Dark Lord must have known… he must have expected… he would not mind…" She was speaking in a quiet mumble and sounded as if she was trying to convince herself, and before Fleur could disagree and insist that the Dark Lord would not want Bellatrix to lay a hand on their prisoner, Bellatrix's mouth was pressed down against Fleur's.

Her kiss was hot and rough and insistent, and her nails dug into Fleur's arms hard enough to nearly break the skin – certainly hard enough to leave bruises. Fleur whimpered.

" _Stop it_ ," she breathed, but Bellatrix didn't. Of course she didn't.

But there was a thrill to it, and Fleur had always sought thrills. She felt more vulnerable with Bellatrix on top of her than she had ever felt with a man – or with  _anyone_  she had _ever_  been with before. It was certainly a different experience than the near-worship she was used to…

"Pretty little temptress…" Bellatrix murmured and her hands were starting to move, running up and down Fleur's torso, gripping her waist and hesitating at her breasts, but always moving, scratching her skin so hard that even through her clothes, Fleur knew she was breaking the skin.

And  _oh_ , there was a sick part of Fleur that just  _loved_  it. And a stupid part of her that was wondering – if she ever got out of this, would Bill pin her down and hurt her like this if she asked him to?

_How could she think something like that? She wasn't going to get out of this alive, and surely, even if she did, she would want to forget everything that had happened while she was in captivity…_

"Don't know… what the Dark Lord would want with you anyhow…" Bellatrix mumbled, one hand moving to caress Fleur's cheek surprisingly gently. "Maybe once he's gotten whatever information he wants from you, he can give you to me… maybe you'll be mine. I'd be good to you–"

"Get off the Veela girl, Bellatrix. You make a fool yourself."

The cold, sneering voice cut Bellatrix off. She pulled back and sprung away from Fleur as quickly as if she'd been burned, leaving Fleur flushed and quite helpless on the floor. She lay still and looked up at Lord Voldemort, who was standing in the doorway and looking down with an expression of mingled disgust and interest at her and Bellatrix.

"I- I am so sorry, my Lord," Bellatrix panted, grasping at her own dress in a vain attempt to straighten it and compose herself. "I- I was only…"

"Stand up." He didn't even look at her, his eyes still fixed on Fleur. "And do not try to explain yourself to me. I had thought that it would be safe to leave you of all people with the half-breed–"

"I am  _not_  a half-breed!" Fleur managed, but her voice was breathless and strained and she was sick with fear and humiliation.

"It would seem that I was wrong," Voldemort continued. His lip curled and Bellatrix flushed and looked away.

"Leave, Bellatrix," he said, after a period of tense silence in which Fleur could not imagine what he was thinking. "If you can't be trusted to stay with the girl, then I shall simply have to watch her myself."

)O(

_Fin_


End file.
